My little brother, dad, and I had spent the last 48 hours between being crammed together in a silver 2004 Toyota Sequoia and sleeping in various hotels. We were taking advantage of the long Memorial Day weekend as a getaway to go on a fishing trip in southern Montana. This would be the pinnacle event of our whole vacation. We were on the verge of hopping into a rickety old motor boat that would carry us across this lake and to the base of the revered “Mann Gulch” in Gates of the Mountains National Park.
I had heard the story many times from my Dad. The thrilling but tragic tale of fifteen smokejumpers who had stepped into the sky to stop a remote forest fire in the Montana wilderness. Within an hour of their jump, all but three of these well-conditioned firefighters were dead or mortally burned. It is a story that had haunted my imagination, and we were currently on the verge of paying tribute to these brave firefighters by experiencing their infamous climb first hand. Or at least that’s what my dad and brother had in mind. My hearing of this story had lead me to another obsession. To conquer Mann Gulch by doing what 12 other men couldn’t accomplish…reach the summit. The dually skilled motor boat captain and tour guide calls out to us, “Let’s go …”
I quickly come back to reality, and we awkwardly find our icy seats on the metallic motor boat. The lake is incredible--reminding me of a shiny ballroom floor the way it reflects the surrounding environment off of its perfectly smooth surface. Within seconds we leave the dock and are now racing forward across the glassy-smooth lake. We are heading towards a break in the mountain range where a river, entering the lake, separates the rocky earth forming a V-shaped canyon in front of us.
“Is this your first time climbing Mann Gulch?” our motor boat driver asks.
“It’s our first time in Montana,” my dad replies.
“Well, you’ll never forget this…Good luck,” the driver tells us as we step on to the rocky shore. “I’ll be back for you at 3:30.” I glance at my watch indicating that it is 8:30 a.m. “I hope he comes back,” my brother says in a frightened tone. “Ya, me too,” I reply. You’ll never forget this… “What did he mean by this,” I ponder in my head. “I bet he’s referring to the scenic view from the peak!” I tilt my head back to see my target. The summit looks far off but now my excitement is going ballistic. I tighten my grip on the shoulder straps of my backpack and move forward, ready to do whatever it takes reach the top.
We had traveled a good five miles into the endless labyrinth of rock wall before it finally opened up, delivering us to a mystical forest hidden away in the middle of the canyon. Mann Gulch was intimidating, and I arrive at its base feeling like an ant as I look at the endless amount of earth that covers the entire view before me. Mann Gulch, unlike the canyon and surrounding mountains, is not rocky but rather an enormous hill of grass and brush that stretches upward reaching the same altitude as its rocky surroundings. As we continue forward, getting closer to the base of the hill, the slope of the land evens out and the grass and brush give way to trees and forest. Drawing a line directly in the middle of all this wildlife is a very neat and obvious hiking trail which extends from the riverbank, through the forest and to the summit of Mann Gulch.
The dark clouds finally make their presence known as thick and heavy rain drops begin to stream down upon us. My adrenaline is now overflowing, and I pull on my gloves to stay warm and toss my backpack full of food over my shoulders as we start following the trail into the forest.
The irony is incredible. Here we are hiking on the same ground that had been the stage for one of the worst forest fire disasters in the history of Montana, with rain falling down all around us in 40 degree weather.
“Hey, great job guys,” my dad says, “We are making good time.”
The dirt trail continues to lead us to our target, weaving in and around an array of forest overgrowth of bushes and vines which carpet the ground with green and make our dirt trail even more distinct.
After about 10 minutes we eventually leave the forest and instantly the amount of rain falling on us and the inclination of the ground both increase drastically. I now find myself fighting to make my way up a muddy hillside, the rain drops pelting my face relentlessly and causing me to want to bow my head. Mystified by the beautiful scenery around me, I continue to look upwards taking in the incredible atmosphere of Mann Gulch.
I look up toward our target. “It’s mine,” I think. Suddenly I am traveling into a different reality and I imagine as if I had been there, one of the 15 firefighters caught obliviously in the path of the fire when it unexpectedly jumped hills. It feels hot and I move my legs seeing smoke all around me and finding it hard to breathe. I hurry to continue my climb and find that any sort of movement extremely difficult. My backpack doesn’t have food inside but rather contains 50 pounds worth of equipment to fight fires. My rain jacket and gloves turn into a heavy-duty jump suit made specifically to sustain and endure high-levels of fire.
“Huh, this is interesting,” I thought, “these things were designed to fight fires not flee from them. This makes the climb almost impossible.”
The only thing keeping my feet moving is my will to survive. I know every step forward takes me closer to escape. As long as I can reach the summit, I will live. Fire travels more slowly downhill. I am now losing strength. I see my comrades all around me disappearing one by one. I keep my eyes set on the target. Trees and bushes fly by my vision in the midst of the smoke. I evade them and continue forward. I can feel the heat rising on the back of my neck, and the fire seems to be surrounding me on all sides as the flames consume more oxygen. My legs churning, I fight to move faster than my adversary. My lungs burn like the fire in my pursuit, and suddenly I break through the smoke and feel newly fallen rain on my face.
The smoke dissipates around me, and my foot slips as I climb on to the stone wall at the summit of Mann Gulch. I reel my head around, looking for signs of a fire but there is nothing. I breathe hard as my dad and brother reach me and stand by my side. Smiling, my dad asks “rougher than you thought?” “Just a bit,” I reply my head still spinning.
The grey clouds have now given way to a beautiful blue sky. The sun is casting its oblique rays on the various corn farms and crop circles that fill the surrounding area past the Gates of the Mountain National Park.
“Wow,” my dad says in awe. “The view really is amazing from here!” A highway comes from Helena and passes by the lake where we began, which seems so far away at this point. I can see boats in the water and people playing on the shore making Mann Gulch not seem so dangerous. Then I look directly at where the trail takes us up the 400 meter climb, the steepest part of Mann Gulch. Scattered across the hillside I see 13 crosses. Memorials to the ones who had run as hard as they could, but did not quite make it. The departing words of the motor boat driver flicker through my head, this time with an understanding of what he really meant.
Stu
English Lit Class
Semester GPA = 4.0
Captain Judi, my clinic partner, and I are PROFIS docs at Camp Cropper. We are the newest members of the 1st Medical Brigade and the 502nd Dental Company out of Fort Hood. We also happen to share clinic space with the 14th Combat Support Hospital from of Fort Benning. That makes us a far-flung, salad bowl of medical professionals doing a job half a world from home.
.jpg)
.JPG)
